900 Ways to Make Money
by heelstominivan
Summary: Bella is a broke grad student looking for a job. Edward is a lonely doctor looking for some company. Their worlds collide during this one-shot for the "Tattward & Inkella" contest. Due to some juicy, wet, lip puckering lemons this fic is rated M. AH
1. Chapter 1

**Tattward & Inkella One-Shot Contest**

**Title: 900 Ways to Make Money**

**Your pen name: Heelstominivan**

**Characters: Edward & Bella**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight; I'm just a dirty whore who enjoys screwing with the characters.**

**To see other entries in the Tattward & Inkella Contest, please visit the C2 page:  
**www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/community/Tattward_and_Inkella_Contest/71624/

Money has been called the root of all evil, and if this is true then I would like to offer up my body to that man we tend to refer to as the devil. You know, the red guy with horns who frequently holds a pitch fork and swims through piles of cash, like Scrooge McDuck, without a care in the world. Yes, that man. I want to give him my body, or my soul, or both, whichever he prefers. It's his for the taking.

True evil isn't money or karma or even death. True evil is when you have to beg your parents for money at the age of twenty-five, after they've already spent their whole life savings paying for your undergrad education. It's when you promise those same parents that you will find a job before entering graduate school and pay them back on top of paying for your own living expenses and tuition. However, three months after starting school you still can't afford a double cheeseburger from the dollar menu at McDonald's, let alone tuition. So in an act of desperation you sell most of your clothes and furniture, which pays for your first semester of school and a few packages of Top Ramen, some Little Debbie Oatmeal Crème Pies and a 12-pack of Dr. Pepper. So then, when you finish all of that fine dining and it's time to register for winter session you find yourself waiting in line twice a week with the local addicts to sell your plasma. At some point you even search through "Craigslist" looking for companies or infertile couples that are willing to pay you for your eggs. But companies like to screen people in person, so your application will most likely be denied thanks to you being an unemployed artistic youth who enjoys expressing yourself in what some may refer to as, "creative ways". Yes, that my friend is true evil.

So as you have probably already figured out, life for me wasn't all sugar plums and cupcakes. I searched months for a job, but found that most employers frowned upon displaying art on the human body instead of on a canvas hung in a museum. I tried to explain to the interviewer that it was a form of expression and that it could be covered or removed, but instead of listening to me they kept asking me questions about them. Everyone wanted to know how much it hurt or where I got it done, and some even dared to ask if I had any piercings that were hidden under my clothes. Most of those were dirty old men that I wanted to punch in the face, but instead I would smile and give them a goofy grin, hoping they'd be intrigued enough to hire me with the expectation that they would find out later. Unfortunately, this never worked.

My mother would call me on the phone and harass me about getting a job, acting as if I just sat around my apartment all day twiddling my thumbs. She would then tell me about how wild she was at one point in her life, but instead of getting tattoos and piercings like me, she married a baseball player. She believed her choice was better, because now that she was divorced she only had a few dings on her credit to show for it, whereas I would always have a permanent reminder of my rebel youth days. My father, on the other hand, just refused to acknowledge my new accessories. I'm pretty sure I heard him once mutter something about it reminding him of the drug addicts he arrested, but when I asked him to repeat it he left the room.

After my third piercing and my first tattoo, my long term high school boyfriend, who I refer to as "Dickhead", explained to me over the phone that as people grow up they tend to grow apart from those who they once loved. I got the point pretty clear. "Dickhead" and I broke up, and shortly thereafter I was fired from my job at Target. My manager told me that they had a few complaints about my customer service skills. I took that as them wanting all their employees to follow the typical society norms forced upon us by a bunch of conservative Bible pushers. Whatever, I never looked that great in red and khaki anyway.

My life was in the crapper, and no one was willing to buy any of my organs. That left me with my only option: drop out of school, move back in with my parents and start writing novels that I hope would eventually get published. I'm sure every famous author moved back in with their parents at some point, right?

As I walked towards the administrative office with the paperwork to drop my classes and get a partial refund, I was approached by a girl who asked me if I was interested in a job. I didn't know whether it was my Jansport backpack that was falling apart at the seams or the ugly pair of red and orange "One Star" Target Converse, too poor to afford the "All Stars", that hinted at my desperate need. She explained to me that I could work for a singles hotline that paid girls good money to talk to random single guys on the phone at night. Red flags should have popped up and smacked me in the face, but instead all I saw was green cash being waved in front of me. I needed the money and if all I had to do was talk on the phone, then so be it. I took the business card and went to class. This was going to be my golden ticket, I was Violet Beauregarde. Too bad my dumb ass didn't remember the fact that she blows up and flies away, never to be seen again.

It took an hour after I first logged on to realize that my new job title of singles hotline hostess was really another name for phone sex operator. Every part of me wanted to hang up the phone and scrub my body clean, especially after some guy asked me if I would put on a pair of tap dancing shoes and wipe ketchup on my nipples. But, I remembered my cash flow problem, and I knew that if I didn't do this job then I was moving back into the twin bed at my dad's house with the old rocker that had lived in the corner since I was a baby. That may be a cute reminiscing moment for my parents, but it only reminded me of "Dickhead" and how I straddled him in it as we rocked back and forth. How I closed my eyes and planned the rest of our lives together. How I gave up my virginity to him on my purple sheets freaking out the whole time that I was going to stain them only to be even more freaked out when no blood ever came out like in the movies. I needed to prove to myself that I could be unique and interesting and _still _be successful. I needed to show everyone that I could have an odd cover but inside there was still a really kick ass story that had yet to be read.

My first day turned into my first week, then month, and here I was six months later still enrolled in my grad program and living on my own. I started really getting into my job as the months passed by, taking it as seriously as possible. I purchased an old dining room table at a garage sale to use as a desk for my precious computer and "tools", the irony of using a dining table was never overlooked. Tools were required for my job, like a maid who has to bring a vacuum and a mop or a waitress who needs a pen and paper. Before starting my shift every night, I placed the props on the table. I kept things on hand like lotion, a whip and a vibrator which were all great for sound effects. For those that enjoyed a golden or brown shower, I would keep a bottle of water, some ice cubes and an empty cup close by. But if they were requesting a rainbow shower, I would fall back on the wonderful internet. I used the internet for sound effects when callers with more difficult fetishes expected me to repeat certain sounds over and over again, like farting, burping, sneezing, crying or gurgling. I also kept a stack of porn magazines and the Kama Sutra book close by for quick reference in case my computer froze up or I lost my internet connection. And last, but certainly not least, I kept the most sacred trick of the trade very close by—my knitting basket. As hot and turned on as I may have sounded on the phone, I was usually pretty bored. So, if I had finished all the laundry and scrubbed all the floors, I picked up my needles and started making random items to sell on "Etsy" for additional cash.

All of my materials helped me play a role, just like any other actor. Even the knitting helped to keep me awake and concentrated on the conversation. The reference material and the computer were practically my bibles since in real life I was very inexperienced. But I needed to be the best dirty whore or naughty schoolgirl around, so I became a quick learner. Since I got paid for every minute they stayed on the line. My goal was to keep them talking or at least entertained for as long as possible. I quickly built up a regular clientele, who scheduled appointments with me either online or through my agency. My regulars were my bread and butter, and I always made sure to keep them fully satisfied, even if that meant lowering my voice to sound masculine or faking an English accent. My mother used to tell me that I was a people pleaser. If only she knew how I was using my pleasing skills to succeed now.

Tonight was just like any other night. I got all of my items ready, threw on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, put my headphones on and logged into my computer. About five minutes later I received my first call from a guy who was into cuckold fantasies. I moaned louder than a five dollar prostitute in a whore house, as I described how I was bending his wife over the bed, dropping to my knees and sucking her clit until I could feel every part of her body twitch in ecstasy. I probably needing to either send apology letters to my neighbors for the noise or start charging them.

I didn't get much further before I heard a muffled sound followed by him hanging up. I hated quick guys who couldn't just experience the moment; they were always far too eager and way too fast. Playing the role of a Dom was always fun, because not only did I enjoy being referred to as Mistress and using some of the sick fetishes I've learned about over the past few months, but I also kept them on the phone until I was ready to hang up. Like good subs, they always obeyed and never hung up before I was done with them. And, they always called back.

I, on the other hand, didn't always obey my clients. I was what most girls referred to as an "Almost Yes Girl". Some girls had lines that they drew, like saying no to simulated rape, incest or pedophilia. Other girls agreed to everything and made excuses like _"I would rather him role play it with me over the phone than do it in real life."_ I believed that to some extent, but I couldn't get past the fact that maybe my role playing actually put them in the mood to try it in real life or possibly gave them some ideas. So, I never allowed rape or pedophilia, but incest between adults was acceptable, such as a client and his mom.

It was close to midnight when I had finished with a few of my regulars and went on to the main website to accept a random incoming call. That was when I met him for the first time.

"Hi, this is Ashley," I said in my typical throaty, seductive voice.

The company I worked for advertised in a variety of different magazines and online websites, and they had set up thousands of phone numbers for different types of women. Before I picked up the line I could see if the person wanted anything from a naughty nun to a pre-op tranny. This caller, however, wanted the girl next door. So, I was no longer Bella. I was Ashley, the suburban neighbor with a secretive sex life.

"Ummm… hello." I could sense the nervousness in his voice but, that wasn't what drew my attention. I've talked to hundreds, if not thousands of men, but something about this voice struck me. It was an extremely deep masculine voice that was rich and incredibly sexy. It wasn't even a full sentence, but it completely grabbed my attention.

"Hi there sexy, are you going to give me your name or should I just call you Sex Stud?" I tugged on one of my nipple rings, inflicting pain throughout my body to keep me from laughing at that horrible line. I was so caught off guard by what his voice did to my girly bits, I couldn't think straight.

He clearly agreed that the line was cheesy because he started to laugh into the phone with that same sexy deep voice that oozed strength and confidence. This felt like such a contradiction, since I could feel the intimidation in his laughter. "Uh, my name is Ed-mett."

His odd name was a disappointment since we were off to such a great start, and then he decided to throw out a name from the white trash baby name book. "Okay, Edmett, how are you tonight?"

"No, I mean… no, my name is Emmett. Sorry about that." His low velvet voice overflowed with sincerity when he apologized to me. It brought me back to almost being excited by the call, especially since he had corrected my pronunciation of his name. In the very short amount of time I'd spoken with him, I'd decided that he was probably in his late 20s or early 30s and married. I imagined that he married his high school sweetheart who had since gained fifty pounds after giving birth to their two kids and had avoided sex with her velvet voiced lover as if it were the plague.

"Well hello, Emmett, you never answered my question… how are you tonight?" The whole point of my job was to make money. I learned early on that you always asked open ended questions and you never pushed sex on the clients, especially virgins. Virgins being those who were calling into a phone sex line for the first time, which was the category that Emmett obviously fell into. I knew that if I brought up anything sexual too soon, I would most likely freak out the client and end up with a dial tone ringing in my ear which meant that I was no longer earning the green.

"Oh, sorry, Ashley. I'm fine, I guess. Ahh… I'm a little nervous." Honesty, always a great quality for a person to have but rarely heard in my line of work. Most men tried to blame their awkwardness on being at work or hiding in a closet from their wives, never admitting to their insecurities or discomfort. I always allowed them to believe that I bought into their shitty story, but I knew the truth. A phone sex virgin was as easy to pick out as a "Rocky Horror Picture Show" virgin who wears their label in lipstick across their chests.

"No need to be nervous, Emmett, I promise not to bite. Well, unless you enjoy being bitten." In six months I've noticed that almost everyone had a fetish of some sort, and insulting them never led to repeat calls, unless of course they were into being insulted by their playmates. I've had experiences with all different fetishes, from people wanting me to put cockroaches on their penises, to cannibalism and to role playing that they were a vampire and I was their chosen one.

The vibration of his deep laughter in my ear was unexpectedly soothing, "Umm, no. No biting required. So, umm… what am I supposed to say? I mean, how does this work?"

"Emmett, this phone call is all about you. So, why don't you tell me why you called? Has there been a special fantasy you've been dreaming about lately?"

It took him about a minute to respond. I could still hear his heavy breathing on the phone so I knew he hadn't hung up. "No, I don't have a special fantasy. I was referred to you by a friend. He told me that I needed to talk to someone since it's been so… long." The hesitation in his voice made him sound as if he was embarrassed to tell me that it had been a long time since he'd been with a woman. If he only knew about my own dry spell, maybe then it would relax him a little. "Well, it's not because I can't get someone, I'm just so busy with work." I loved hearing men make excuses; I had sex with guys over the phone for money, why did they feel the need to explain anything to me?

I softened my voice from a seductive temptress to more of a subservient typical girlfriend, "I'm sorry that you've been too busy at work to take care of yourself. Is there anything I can do to help you out?"

He chuckled softly and then whispered, "You can hire me a new nurse." Bingo, so sexy voice was into naughty nurses.

Switching back to my seductive voice I whispered, "Doctor Emmett, I would love to be your nurse, but before I start the physical exam I'm going to need you to take off all your clothes and put on the gown I left for you on the bed, the opening in the front, of course."

"What?" I could sense the anger in his voice, and it sent chills down my spine. I immediately resorted to my therapeutic nervous habit of sliding my tongue out of my mouth and biting my front teeth down on my venom studs. My dentist swore that one day my habit would result in me chipping my teeth and having to get veneers, but I couldn't help it. "No, I meant I really do need a nurse. Not for you to act like one." There was an uncomfortable silence that took over, and even though I usually had no problem filling it, I felt like I should allow him to finish his thought. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to raise my voice at you. I just need someone to talk with. I have tons of friends, but I needed someone who didn't know me. A stranger who could just listen and, well… I can't believe I called. I'm so sorry."

His sincerity tugged at my heart. I felt bad for this man and wanted to wrap my arms around him. He sounded lonely and obviously regretted his decision to call. I knew that I wanted to keep him on the phone and not just because I wanted the money but because I didn't want to leave him alone and desperate. I would worry for months thinking about what he did after we hung up.

"Emmett, you don't have to apologize. You did nothing wrong. I'm glad that you called me, I enjoy listening to you talk. Please, tell me about your day. I'd love to hear all about it." I wasn't lying, and I wasn't above begging. I felt frantic to hear his masculine voice continue on.

"Well, last night I was on call and ended up staying at the hospital until about eight this morning. I came home to my empty house and to my empty bed and slept until the afternoon. I deleted all my messages without even listening to them because I didn't care to talk with an ex-girlfriend or my bothersome sister. Then, I went for a ride on my motorcycle and ran some errands. And, well, now I'm talking with you."

He said so much all at one time I was having a problem deciding what to address first. I really wanted to hear more about his motorcycle, but thought that he probably wanted to talk more about his job since it seemed to be causing him the most anxiety. "Sounds like you've had a very long day. What exactly kept you at the hospital all night?"

His hesitation told me that he was internally debating if he should share his occupation with me. Usually men, especially professional men, jumped at the opportunity to tell me what they did for a living or how much they made. They would try to slip it in like it just casually came up, or at times they would even yell it out loud during our role play; something like _"Yeah you dirty girl, spank my million dollar CEO ass."_

"Like I said, I was on call last night at the hospital. Well… I'm a doctor, and I had a patient who needed me to be there for her." I loved how he phrased that, _"a patient who needed me to be there for her,"_ I wished all doctors cared that much.

"That's very kind of you, is she doing better?" I bit down harder on my venom studs, hoping the answer would be positive; nothing like a dead patient to ruin the moment.

He cleared his throat and took a drink of something before answering. "Yes, thank you. She'll be fine. So Ashley, what about you? How was your day?"

I hated getting too personal with my clients so I would usually make up some random thing like I went shopping at Victoria Secrets for their annual sale. But with Emmett, I appreciated his honesty, and I felt the need to reply with the same. "I spent the day cleaning my house until my appointment in the afternoon and now here I am."

"What was your appointment about?" Shit, he caught my slipup. Most of society hated the idea of my body art, and I'm sure a doctor would agree with them. I tried to think of a way to spin it without lying, but nothing seemed to work.

"Emmett, do you like women with tattoos?" I was hoping he wouldn't hang up.

He chuckled into the phone, which sounded almost like a slight moan, "Depends Ashley, do you like men with tattoos?"

I released the studs from my front teeth and let out a soft giggle, similar to what you would hear from a school girl, "Are you trying to confess something to me?"

Another deep sound rang into my ear, but this time I knew it was a moan, which brought a smirk to my face. "Well, I have a Celtic cross on the inside of my right arm, a Celtic inspired half sleeve on my left arm and my last name going down my right side." Crap, I loved tattoos and more than anything, I wanted to see pictures of his. I wasn't typically a fan of Celtic inspired tatts, but I was still very intrigued to see his. "Recently, I've been thinking about adding some wording above or below the cross, maybe in Gaelic. I was thinking of _happiness is entirely a matter of chance_."

I wanted to pull my nipple ring in an effort to push back my laughter, but it came out too quickly and it was too late to take it back. "I'm sorry, I wasn't laughing at you. Your tattoos sound amazing, I was laughing at the quote you want. Aren't you missing a couple of words?" I knew that line very well; I've read it over a hundred times. I reached over for my cell phone and looked to see if Rose had texted me. She must have paid this guy to call me; his sexy low voice, tattoos, a motorcycle, a job and now quoting Pride and Prejudice.

"Ashley, if you can tell me the words I left out then I promise to call back some time this week." Hmm, I loved it when my clients acted like they were in control. I looked at my computer and realized we'd been on the phone for over an hour, which added to my confidence. I knew that he was enjoying the talk or else he would have ended it fifty-five minutes ago. This job was about money, so no matter how much I enjoyed listening to him talk and even what he had to say, I was still working.

"Tell you what Emmett, if I tell you the missing words, I would not only expect you to call me twice this week, but… you have to promise not to get it tattooed on your body, especially not in a foreign language." I took a chance at offending him, but I really would have hated the thought of a nice sounding guy like him with some quote on was translated incorrectly.

His deep voice chuckled into my ear again, "Deal."

I knew I had him, so in the most seductive voice I could muster up I simply replied, "Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance."

There was a moment of silence that was far from uncomfortable and then his amazing voice purred back to me, "I guess I'll be talking with you soon. Wait, how will I know how to get a hold of you next time?"

That was always my favorite question, repeat business. "Next time you want to talk to me, dial the same number but press the pound button when the greeting comes on. It will prompt you to put in an operator's number, mine is twenty. If I'm available it will connect you to me, if I'm on the line or not working then you'll be allowed to either schedule an appointment with one of the operators or have them text you next time I'm ready for a call."

I didn't want the call to end, but I knew that's where it was headed. "Until then Ashley, please have sweet dreams." And with that I heard the dial tone in my ear; my worst enemy.

I took my headphones off desk and decided to end my night. I wanted his voice to be the last thing I heard before I fell asleep.

Three days later, I received a message that I had an appointment set up with Emmett for later that evening. I was so excited to talk to him that I cleaned my whole apartment, did a few loads of laundry and actually worked on some homework just to keep my mind off the call. When it came closer to the time, I moved the computer to my bedroom and snuggled into my purple silk sheets so that I would be extra comfortable.

Our conversation from the start seemed to flow naturally. We didn't have any awkward silences or seemed to need any time to re-warm up to each other. We talked as if we were old friends who were catching up after a few years. He told me more about his motorcycle collection and his new custom Harley, which he referred to as his "Baby." He talked about his family some and how they were pretty close knit even though they didn't live near by. I learned that he'd had a few serious girlfriends in the past but nothing in the last year or so and that he wasn't the kind of guy to go and just hook up. He enjoyed dating women and trying to form an emotional connection with them first. I remembered having to pull my nipple ring a little because it seemed like such a line to me, even if it was said with pure sincerity.

He explained the significance and why he chose his tattoos. The first one he got was his last name. He got it during college when his crew team had won some championship. All of the teammates got their last names as some sort of celebration for the camaraderie they'd developed over the years. The next tattoo was his Celtic cross, which was in honor of his mom as she collected ancient crosses. And the last was the half sleeve that one of his best friends drew for him. He told me how he was hoping to eventually fill in his upper arm around the Celtic cross, which made me literally come unglued. I was lying in my bed, closing my eyes and picturing these tattoos in my head. I imagined myself tracing them with my finger and licking them with my tongue.

We were cut short when his pager went off, and he promised to call back soon. After we hung up, I decided to break out one of my props, then I closed my eyes and pretended that instead of rabbit ears it was really Emmett's tongue. After I finished reality hit me, and I was reminded that this guy probably looked more like Pee-Wee Herman than Johnny Depp, and most likely worked at the cafeteria of the hospital. Phone sex is based on fantasies that people want to create for themselves. I knew that I was forming an attraction to him, but I didn't know how to stop it. There was just something about him that I craved.

The next Tuesday, I had another appointment with Emmett. When his call came through his deep cool voice welcomed me as he told me about his stressful day. He admitted that our previous conversations had inspired him to stop by his regular tattoo parlor and talk to the artist about some custom ideas he had for his other sleeve. Between his velvet sensual voice, amazing personality and our shared interest, I wanted to jump through the phone and attack him. I was finding it hard to control my own sexual urges, and if I didn't do something about it soon, I was going to need my own phone sex operator to help me out.

Our conversation mimicked the previous ones up until he started to talk about how lonely he was. "Ashley, I don't mind being alone and actually welcome the time to think about life and to reflect on my day. But when it's time to go to bed and it's empty, I find myself reaching over to the other side and imagining that someone else is lying down next to me. I miss the comfort of a woman. I miss the warmth of another person's body. I miss being touched."

Something about his warm voice dripped passion and desire, and I didn't know if he was ready to move on to the next step, but I knew that I was. "Would you like it if I touched you?"

His breathing started to speed up and his voice shook as he whispered, "Yes."

I walked over to my sofa, slid off my sweatpants and my already wet panties and decided that it was only fair that we both enjoyed this conversation. "Good, because I've been wanting to rub my hands down your naked chest for a while now. So lay back and close your beautiful eyes. Can you feel how soft my hands are?"

"Yes," his voice trembled.

"I'm lowering my head and bringing my luscious lips to your solid chest. Kissing every inch, I'm pulling your erect nipple into my mouth, circling my long wet tongue around it while taking it in between my teeth. Do you like that?"

He answered me with a deep groan.

"My dripping wet lips are showering your body with kisses while working slowly down your curved-out trail." I moaned into the phone as my fingers made small circles into my wetness. "My hands are pulling your thick thighs apart, spreading your legs… allowing me closer to your gigantic hard cock."

"Ahh… Fuck," he groaned.

"I'm pushing my soft juicy lips together and lightly blowing on your huge dick, warming it up with my breath while layering it with soaking wet lube. Tell me Baby, what do you want?"

His breathing was all I could hear on the phone. "I want to hear it Baby, what do you want from me? Say it." I demanded.

"FUCK… give it to me… suck me… suck my dick." I could hear the desperation in his voice. I knew that we both needed the same thing. My fingers eased my wet lips apart, allowing me to take my time and savor the moment. I slipped two fingers inside, curling them up as I stroked every inch. My other hand wandered up to my breast and I pulled and pinched my hard nipples

"I'm on my knees in front of you, admiring the thickness of your massive cock. My hand is slowly sliding up and down, over and over again, squeezing harder each time. I'm circling my thumb around the wetness that's starting to escape from the top your dick."

"I need to feel it… please… please… give it to me." He was breathing rapidly, causing me to speed up the pace of my fingers. I enjoyed hearing him beg, I squeezed my eyes closed and imagined looking up at him, watching him plead for my mouth to swallow his dick. My fingers grabbed my clit and started to tug on it. I arched my back away from the sofa and I inadvertently yelled, "FUCK."

"My tongue is dripping with saliva as it slides up your thick rod, savoring the taste of you and leaving a sparkly trail of wetness behind." I paused for a moment, allowing him to enjoy the thought. "My hands are gripping the base of your cock as I take your engorged head and slide it into my wide open mouth. I'm slowly sucking on it like a melting popsicle on a hot day, allowing the juices to drip down my face. You're my cocksicle."

"Holy shit… YES… fuck it… take it all in." I started to swivel my hips faster, allowing my fingers to slide even deeper inside.

"My teeth are gently dragging up and down, nipping your erection. I open my mouth even wider and take the whole length of you in, forcing you to hit the back of my throat. My swollen lips are pressed around the massive base of your dick." I let out a large humming noise that caused him to start panting. "My hands are cupping your balls, rolling them around in my palm while my mouth is gradually sliding back up to the head of your cock allowing me to start sucking harder on the head, twirling my smooth tongue around the tip."

"I can't hold it back anymore… fuck… I'm going to cum." His urgency sent an excitement through my body that caused my insides to tighten around my fingers. I kept pressing harder on my internal soft spot, moving my fingers in a _come here_ motion as my thumb continued to rub on my piercing.

"Cum baby… cum in my mouth…. I want to taste you… I want to swallow you whole… give it to me… give me it." I couldn't control myself as I started to explode on my fingers, enjoying the pulsing sensation that took over. I started to moan loud into the phone. Enjoying the release I was experiencing.

"Fuck me… Ashley!" I knew that he was feeling the same explosion I had just experienced. But I slipped my fingers out and felt a sudden disappointment wash over me. I sat on my sofa, wishing I could enjoy the moment, but instead I felt an urgency to jump in the shower and wash away the awkward feeling.

I had to finish what I started so I began to fake moan, "Baby, you taste so good. I can feel your cock jerking inside my mouth, over and over again. I'm gently sliding my tongue across my lips, making sure that I swallow every last drop."

"Holy… fuck." The silence took over the phone line, and I knew that I should say more and continue our conversation, but nothing came out. "Thank you for that, I need to go. Sweet dreams."

That was it, he hung up. I sat there wishing it was Bella that he screamed, but it wasn't, it wasn't real. He paid for me, I was his fantasy; his well paid fantasy.

It had been weeks since I heard from Emmett. I knew there was a possibility that our last call scared him away, but I craved him. I felt such a strong connection with him that even weeks later, I internally prayed that each phone call that came in would be his velvety voice on the other end. At nights, I often dreamt that I picked up the line and it was him. He would explain to me that he had gone on a three hour tour with some friends on a small ship which was trapped in a storm and crashed into a deserted island. He described how they were able to make huts and find food, and that the thought of my voice kept him strong until they were finally rescued by a passing ship. When I would wake up from the dream, I'd curse myself for watching too many reruns of Gilligan's Island.

My best friend Rose believed that I had developed some form of agoraphobia since I hardly left my house anymore. I put all my effort into school or working, trying to do anything that would drain his voice from my mind. But my efforts seemed to usually fail, and I would end up alone in my bed, using a vibrator to help my fantasies of Dr. Emmett help, cursing myself for not investing in a rabbit with a plug since my batteries tended to die right when I was about to finish. However, I'd learned to get out of my bed without tripping on my panties, that were still around my ankles, hop over to my sofa, take the batteries out of my television remote, put them in my dead vibrator, and get back to my bed to continue in less than a minute. It was a lot harder than it sounded, and if they had more competitions like _that_ on the Olympics, I would probably actually watch it.

Rose didn't buy into my excuses anymore and threatened my life if I didn't meet her and some friends for drinks at some snobby restaurant where people drank their beers from glasses instead of bottles, and the women ordered martinis that they held in their hands milking all night long. I hated being forced to go out where I stuck out like a sore pierced thumb with friends of a friend who I didn't know. But, I didn't want to die yet so I threw on some sexy jeans and a tight sapphire blue top that I knew Rose would approve of. By the time I made it to the restaurant the group had already been seated at the table, so slipping in fashionably late had already been thrown out the window.

When I approached the table Rose jumped up and greeted me with a huge hug and whispered her approval in my ear. She then went around one by one, introducing me to everyone sitting at the table. They all looked pretty normal, which wasn't a compliment as far as I was concerned. I hadn't been seated at the table for more than a minute before the far too eager waiter came over and asked for my drink order. Before I could tell him what I wanted, two guys walked up to our table and told the waiter that we all needed double shots of Patron. Wondering who the hell they were, I looked up at them and immediately noticed how gorgeous they were. As I stared, I could have sworn that the clouds parted and god shone down a light onto these magnificent creatures.

I hadn't realized that my staring was so obvious until Rose elbow jabbed me in the stomach. I quickly shut my mouth and pretended to focus on a non-existent object on the table. I wanted to look up and acknowledge them, but I could feel the drool collecting at the side of my mouth, and I didn't want them to notice my infantile behavior. I kept looking at the table, hoping the night would end soon, because there was no way I could sit at this table with these two guys for long. I was having a record breaking dry spell, and if I didn't leave soon, I was truly worried that I would jump on the table, grab both of them and go from inexperienced nice girl to dirty whore who takes it in both ends at the same time.

When the Patron shots arrived, I didn't have a choice but to look up at everyone and pretend to listen to their lame cheer about friendship. I tried to zone out faces but was distracted when I saw the thick black rimmed glasses on the guy sitting across from me. As I stared at him, I noticed his emerald green eyes with a hint of yellow in them, and they were the prettiest eyes I'd ever seen. I knew that I should have looked away, but when his eyes caught mine we just looked at each other. Our moment was cut short when everyone started to bang together their shot glasses and chug their drinks. I winked and tilted mine back, internally begging that the drink would hit me soon.

The conversation around the table started to become full of sexual innuendos once the alcohol started kicking in, and I noticed that everyone seemed a bit more touchy feely than they had before. Laughter filled the air, and every few minutes I would look over to my green eyed god and give him a sweet smile. In return he'd give me an adorable smirk, sending shivers down my spine. I had never felt that way about anyone before, let alone a perfect stranger, but something about him made me want to get naked.

After a few hours, when we were all too drunk to drive home, someone threw out the idea of going to a strip club. At first the girls declined, but eventually their decisions were swayed or at least more shots were poured until they agreed. When we got into the club our waitress, which was really just a stripper wearing a bikini, walked us to a large table located front and center to the main stage. I grabbed a chair, and as I went to sit down I felt a hand touch my lower back; my green eyed god was touching me. Goosebumps covered my entire body, and I nearly melted right then and there. He helped me sit down, while scooting his chair right up against mine. I was close enough to slide my fingers through his messy bronzed hair and give it a gentle tug, but I gathered up all my strength and resisted.

The naked ladies in front of me, sliding up and down the pole, didn't help with the awkward situation. Every time a stripper would come over and shove her boobs in my face or spread her legs in front of me, I would feel my panties get a little bit wetter. Soon I was going to need a ShamWow to clean up my mess. Women approached me and offered to give me lap dances, and though I wanted one, I knew that I wouldn't be able to abide by the no touching rule. I was too far gone. I started to close my eyes and bite on my piercings when I felt a hand touch my leg. I opened my eyes and looked down to see that the green eyed fuck me god was touching me. I looked over and saw him smiling. I didn't know if he was willing to back up what he just started, but at that point it was game on.

The next song came on and I stood up, walked in front of him, spread his legs and leaned into his ear.

In my sensual phone sex operator voice I whispered, "Are you going to tell me your name now or will I have to wait until after I fuck you?" I'd never done anything like that before, and I hoped he didn't catch on to the tremble in my voice. Something about him begged me to be naughty, and though I wanted to shove my feelings away and put my nun outfit back on, I decided it was time to finally live my life.

He moved his head closer, pressing his warm cheek to mine, and whispered back, "I'm whoever you want me to be."

Something about his voice struck me, almost as if I'd heard it before. I tried to place it, but I'd talked to so many men in past months that all of the voices had started to melt together. I stood there for a second, reconsidering what I was about to start. I didn't want the games and role playing, I wanted a real person.

I rolled my eyes, and made it very clear that I was annoyed by the cheesy line he had just fed me. He groaned at my display of disapproval and replied, "It's Edward…. I'm sorry, I'm just not used to beautiful women being so forward with me." A smile started to form at the corner of my mouth as I blushed at the unusual reference to my beauty. Not wanting to ruin the moment with my insecurities, I sat down in his lap, noticeably feeling his hard-on pressed against my butt, I knew I'd never leave.

His hands dragged up my sides and intrigued by what he felt, slightly lifted my shirt and glanced down to take a closer peek. As his eyes lingered on me I started to feel butterflies in my stomach. I closed my eyes in anticipation of his response. The music pounding over the loud speakers was drowned out by my heartbeat. I once again considered running out of the club when I felt his fingers trace the ribbon laced in-between each of my piercings. His two fingers gently tugged at the bottom of the bow and my back involuntarily arched, leaving my head resting on his shoulder. I had never allowed a man to touch my side piercings, yet now every part of my body wanted to know how it felt to be licked.

His breath on my neck was getting heavier, and his cock twitched against me. I tilted my head to the side as his hands came up and cupped my face. He pulled me closer and passionately devoured my lips. The warmth of his soft mouth forced me to twist around and straddle him in the chair. His tongue swept across my lips, asking permission to enter. I slowly parted them and allowed him to dart his tongue into my mouth and slide over the top of my venom studs. His tongue lingered inside my mouth caressing my own as I closed my mouth around his tongue gently sucking on it. His hands grabbed my lower back, pushing my breasts up against his chest.

"Excuse me you two." The voice of a woman rang in my ears, and though I wanted to avoid her and finish what I started, Edward ended the kiss and greeted her with a smug smirk. I tilted my head in her direction and noticed the desire in her eyes as she eye-fucked him. I cleared my throat, making sure she remembered who was sitting on his lap, rubbing against his strained penis.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," she continued, "but our club has a no sex policy." I could understand Rose being annoyed by our public display of affection, but to have a stripper cock block us almost made me break out in laughter.

She lowered her voice to a whisper, "However, if either of you need to use the restroom, it's in the back." She winked at my sex god and then leaned down into my ear, "and let me know if you need any help."

Before I could respond to her or even look around the club to see if anyone was looking at us, Edward had grabbed me by my ass and lifted me up with his body, carrying me to the back of the club. He kicked open the bathroom door, and with one swift motion locked it behind us, threw me onto the countertop and pressed his hard chest to mine essentially pinning me to the mirror. His hands touched my shoulders and slowly slid down my arms until he reached the bottom of my shirt, and lifted it over my head exposing the black lace and my artistic flare. A soft moan escaped his lips as his tongue flickered out of his mouth and started to slide down my neck to the middle of my chest. I gripped the edge of the counter as he pushed down my bra and began sucking on my nipples. His tongue played with the bar in his mouth as his teeth gently tugged on it. I bucked my hips into him and moaned his name.

I could feel him rolling his hips between my legs, pressing his erection closer to me. His urgency was apparent when his kisses started to make their way down my stomach and linger at the top of my jeans. I heard the button on them pop open, and the zipper quickly followed. My clothes were in a pile on the floor in record time. I could feel the warmth of his heavy breaths as his mouth moved up and down my naked legs. He stopped and started to suck on my thighs, slowly making his way to my crotch. My breathing became erratic as his tongue played with my piercing. All the online threads that promised me I would never regret my triangle piercing were not exaggerating. I dug my fingernails through his shirt and into his shoulders while screaming his name. I needed him. I craved him. I _had_ to experience every inch of his body.

I forcefully grabbed his shirt, pulling it over his head, momentarily causing him to stop what he was doing to me. My eyes glanced over his god-like body as he knelt before me. I didn't think it was possible for my attraction for him to grow any larger until my eyes darted to his half-sleeve tattoo. I pulled him up so I could get a closer look at the intricate Celtic design, my fingers tracing the black lines as they twisted and turned. I was studying it with my eyes and fingers when his hands reached up and cupped my face. He placed a small sweet kiss on my forehead and stood back, allowing me to notice the other tattoo on his inner arm, a Celtic cross. I sat frozen on the cold countertop, completely naked and exposed. There was no way that this could be _him_.

My eyes flicked down to his side and I could see what appeared to be another tattoo, I dragged my finger over it and asked, "What is this?" I hoped he wouldn't hear the fear in my voice or see the traitor tears forming in my eyes. I couldn't understand why I was on the verge of crying, but something about the moment was overwhelming. He moved to the side slightly, lifting his arm so that I could get a better look at the writing that was going down his sculpted body. "It's my last name," he whispered.

I closed my eyes to hide my emotions as I pulled him closer to me, "Fuck me," I whispered. He pulled out a condom from his back pocket and quickly pulled down his pants and black boxer briefs, sliding the condom over his erection. His hands moved to my back as he positioned himself to allow his dick to easily slide in. My eyes met his and without words I gave him permission to enter. All of my memories over the past few weeks came to mind, as I sat there waiting to feel him inside me. I closed my eyes again and felt him slowly enter me, the two of us becoming one.

He started to slowly slide in and out of me keeping a steady pace, making sure to take his time. He cupped my ass as he slid in, hitting spots I never knew existed, then slowly pulling back until he was almost fully out. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer and allowing him to go even deeper.

"Fuck me… you're so fucking tight," he growled while driving his cock deeper inside me over and over again, hitting and caressing each and every spot. I could hear his dick invading me, flowing through my wetness, causing me to tighten up all around him. The shaft of his erection massaged my piercing, leaving me unable to hold back anymore.

"Harder! Faster!" I screamed. He grabbed my hair and rammed his cock deeper inside me, the thrusting causing my head to make contact with the mirror. Our hips ground together as waves of pleasure overcame me and my walls tightened around him, causing me to shake and moan.

He let out a loud growl and then I heard it. "Bella!" He screamed _my_ name. I opened my eyes and looked at him with pure satisfaction as his dick pulsed inside of me.

With his arms wrapped around me, he stood there for a moment pressing my head into his chest. I wanted to scream out loud and tell him that I was Ashley. I wanted to experience him again, I wanted to go home with him and fill the emptiness in his bed. I wanted to be his. I wanted to stare at his chest for the rest of my life, devouring his kisses. I wanted my happily ever after.

I was debating in my head how to tell him when I realized he had pulled his shirt back on and was in the process of pulling up his pants. My heart dropped, and I knew I couldn't wait any longer; I had to tell him how I felt. I needed him to know who I was. I looked at him and his gorgeous emerald green eyes. Edward was my Emmett. The smile on my face grew as I looked back down to the pants he was trying to button. It was my only chance, I had to do it. "Who said you could put your pants back on… _Emmett_?"

**Author's Notes**

Reviews & votes are sweeter than the taste of Edward's hot sticky cum on my wet luscious lips.

(P.S. Each review will get a little email sex response… promise to make it hot!)

_I need to thank a few people for all of their help:_

**Pamela0201** the "Queen of Commas, Cunts, and Cockolds" – whether you want to admit it, my stories wouldn't be the same without you. You came into my life and brought all your perverted ideas, pushing my virginal tendencies to the side and forcing me to use words like cock and jizz juicer. You will always be the cream beneath my bat wings (slang dictionary that shit).

(Side Note: Pammie's response is that she is actually the "Queen of Innocence and Niceness" who had to go against everything in her life to even read my shit)

**mcc101180** – Thank you for squeezing me into your incredibly busy schedule time and time again. You're always willing to help me with not only corrections but also new ideas. I owe you!

**Stavanger1** – Thank you for reviewing and correcting this story, and for constantly pimping my shit (Yes, I'm officially your whore). For those who haven't read her stories or checked out her blog… run!

**Vampgirl** – Even though we have yet to meet (or even talk), I feel a very strong connection with you. Yup, you're my Edmett. Thank you for taking the time to read my story and help with the corrections. I owe you one hot, long, steamy phone sex conversation.

**Edwardsho** – You'll always be my expired twatwaffle. 3


	2. Phone Call, Thank you's, and Vote!

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

**We made it to the public vote! **

_Yes, I'm breaking one of my own commandments by posting a non-chapter update. However, rules are meant to be broken, and I hope that this will entertain you._

~~**~~

Yesterday left me with a slight emo moment until I finally found out the truth, which only led me to look like a complete asshole as I did the chicken dance in my kitchen. It had been a whole day and the shock still hadn't gone away. I was so excited and desperately felt the urge to share the great news with someone else.

I looked through all the contacts on my cell phone, but none of them seemed to be the right choice. I knew in my heart that there was only one person that would not only understand my excitement but occupy my brain with a new topic. I grabbed my notes that were hidden in my desk, not wanting my children to accidentally find them or even worse, have my husband stumble across them. They would only put him in the mood, and I was far too busy to offer him any of my amazing lovin'. I dialed the number from my notes and closed the office door making sure that I had complete privacy.

The anticipation of hearing her voice was almost overwhelming. I needed to hear her excitement, I needed to celebrate this with her, and I was praying to some higher being that she wasn't on the other line.

The phone seemed to ring forever until I finally heard it. "Hi, this is Ashley."

Over the past month or so she had grown into much more than just a friend or a research tool. I started to think of her as a partner. Without her. I would have nothing, no reviews or wonderful emails. I would be left with an empty inbox and no friends on Twitter. She helped me break into the FanFiction world, and I went from being a no one to being a no one with a few reviews.

I could hardly contain my excitement, "Hey baby, it's me." Names didn't need to be spoken between us, we were that close.

"Heels, how nice to hear from you… so soon. I wasn't expecting you until Thursday for our regular appointment. This is a nice surprise." The seductiveness of her voice made my body tingle, and the words that came through her lips made me blush. I wished that she could have been in the room with me, holding my hand... hugging me... enjoying the moment with me.

"Yeah, well... I thought I would call to tell you the good news." She let out a soft giggle, as if she already expected what I was going to say next. "I wanted you to know that we did it. We made it to the final public vote."

I could hear the cheering in the background from one of her infamous internet sound bites. "Well, Heels, I don't know why you're so shocked. We all knew that they would enjoy the dirtiness of my job. And besides, who could resist Edmett? I mean damn... that man makes straight men wish they were gay."

The thought of Edmett came into my mind. I craved to be in a room, watching them together, hoping that they would ask me to join in. I could picture our bodies moving in sync as we explored every inch of each other until the sun came up, only to keep going until the street lights came back on. Because, as much as I was attracted to Ashley, nothing compared to the love I had for Edmett.

"Yes, Edmett is amazing. My words in the story could never even come close to describing the beauty in which he beholds. I will forever owe him and you for helping me get this far in the contest. I just wanted to thank you both. Thank you for sharing your story with me and allowing me to share it with the other horny women out there. Our panties will forever hold a small stain from the experiences we shared with you."

"Oh. Heels, we've only just begun, honey. You've already told me that people have been asking for more, and I think that we should give them what they've been begging for."

She had a point. The response from the reviewers has been so amazing that I found myself staying up late at night refreshing my inbox, hoping that a new review would pop up, then jumping up in the morning to race down and see if anymore showed up while I slept. Reviews are my crack, and fuck Whitney, that shit ain't whack.

"You're right, the response was amazing, and it is only fair that I thank them by continuing it on for at least a few more chapters. So, our scheduled appointments might need to be moved up from once a week to twice in order to prepare. Will that work for you?"

"Umm... yeah. But, only if you let it start tonight. Come on Heels, you've missed me, admit it."

She had something about her that I just couldn't resist, so I got up and locked the door making sure that no one walked in and interrupted what we were about to begin. "That seems fair, now where did we leave off last time?"

~~**~~

Edmett, Ashley and I would like to thank each and every one of you dirty whores who not only read our o/s but also left us an amazing review. Ashley and I have had a great time reading over some of them during our weekly phone calls. If you could only hear her purr as I read her the naught but oh so nice words we received.

If you enjoyed our craziness, be sure to add me to your author alerts so that you'll be updated when I post a new chapter. We would also like to send our thanks to all of the judges who spent A LOT of time reading over every entry. Y'all deserve a nice crack from a riding crop, which I would be more than willing to provide for you.

**Voting is now open!**

Voting will be opened starting today, August 7th, until Friday, August 14th, at 11:59AM CST.

http://www (dot) fanfiction (dot) net/~tattwardandinkella

(The link is on the top of the page)

There are 27 stories in the finals; all of them are incredible and great reads. So please, make sure to check them out.

**What the fuck are you still doing here?**

**GO VOTE!**


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